


With a slingshot (and all ten toes)

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Praise Kink, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Oh look, it’s your favorite part,” Tony says.Peter doesn’t bother replying. He already knows what’s coming next, because Tony will never pass up an opportunity to make fun of him for that one particular brain fart, no matter how many years it's been.“The one with thewalking thingies,” Tony finishes gleefully.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 155
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020, is this thing (an)on?





	With a slingshot (and all ten toes)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intoxicatelou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/gifts).



“Oh look, it’s your favorite part,” Tony says.

Peter doesn’t bother replying. He already knows what’s coming next, because Tony will never pass up an opportunity to make fun of him for that one particular brain fart, no matter how many years it's been.

“The one with the _walking thingies_ ,” Tony finishes gleefully.

He rolls his eyes, not that Tony will be able to see it from this angle; both of them stretched out on couch together, Peter leaning back against Tony’s chest. 

“I was fourteen and fighting with superheroes for the first time in my life,” Peter says. “So yes, in the heat of the moment I forgot what AT-ATs were called. Let’s totally focus on that instead of how my plan saved your ass.”

“To be fair, it’s well worth saving. It’s a pretty good ass.”

It’s a _great_ ass, actually - not that Peter is going to give Tony the satisfaction of saying so. 

Instead he lifts one hand, palm facing down, and waggles it in a so-so gesture. 

“Ouch,” Tony says, his tone mild. 

Peter doesn’t feel all that bad. Tony knows very well just how much Peter appreciates his ass. 

Tony’s hand slips down under the hem of Peter’s t-shirt, splaying out flat against the planes of Peter’s stomach. “Sorry not all of us can have super-enhanced metabolisms and the kind of physique Michelangelo would’ve stuck on plinth outside the Palazzo Vecchio,” he says.

Peter just barely manages not to squirm at the off-hand praise, suddenly thankful Tony can’t see the way the his face is burning. He should be more used to this by now, probably. Tony says stuff like that a lot, almost definitely because he likes the way it never fails to get Peter going. 

Tony’s thumb drags upwards along Peter’s breastbone, stroking up and down a few times before making a wide sweep over his left pectoral muscle, and Peter finds himself having to make a conscious effort to continue breathing normally. From his vantage point, Peter can see the subtle flex and and shift in the muscles of Tony’s forearm as his hand continues to roam across Peter’s chest and stomach. 

“You do alright,” Peter offers. He licks his lips, mouth dry.

Tony chuckles, his breath tickling the hair at the back of Peter’s head. On screen, Wedge is weaving his way through the legs of an AT-AT and telling his gunner to ready the harpoon. 

Peter had always liked that scene, and re-watching it now, years after Berlin, tends to fill him with a warm sort of glow; remembering the rush of exhilaration he’d felt at impressing Tony for the first time mid-battle. At the time, that’d been huge. 

He hadn’t known back then that Tony is actually pretty easy to impress. Okay - maybe not for most people, but easy enough for Peter.

Tony’s other hand drifts down to cup Peter through his boxers and Peter has to shut his eyes. He can’t just sit here watching Empire like nothing’s happening while Tony does _that_ with his hand.

“I take it back. Way better than David,” Tony says.

 _David?_ Peter wonders for a moment before remembering: oh, Michelangelo. Right. 

“Yeah, plus I’m not cross-eyed.”

Tony’s hand stops and Peter immediately regrets commenting. He rolls his hips, hoping to nudge Tony back into action, but gets nowhere with it.

“Michelangelo’s David is cross-eyed?”

“Um, yeah,” Peter says. “They did a laser triangulation scan and made a 3D model, and he’s kinda squinting and cross-eyed, I guess? But you can’t tell in person because no one really looks at him right at eye-level. We had to read about an article about it for my art history lecture last semester.”

“Huh.”

“Also, I have all my toes,” Peter feels compelled to add.

“Kind of a weird thing to brag about kid, but sure, why not. You have great toes, too.”

Peter laughs, turning his head so he can shove his face against the back of the couch in a half-hearted attempt to stifle the sound. Tony takes advantage of the opening to plant a kiss to the side of his neck, then slips his hand underneath the waistband of Peter’s boxers, jacking him off with long, slow strokes. It’s raining outside, and the city is quiet. Neither of them have anywhere to be. 

Tony isn’t wrong. This is definitely his favorite part.


End file.
